Never Ready
by Degrazzi
Summary: A fiction in which Peeta never returned to District 12, Katniss and Haymitch rely heavily on one another for support, and birth control is a flawed creation that does not always work to it's fullest expectations.


I pace in front of his front door, a sack containing the dinner I prepared in my left hand, with my right one free enough turn the knob. Curiously enough, I haven't made an attempt to open the door. I just pace, as if some higher power should bestow me with the courage to continue on this mission.

It shouldn't be so hard to open this door. I've occupied this house on many occasions.

It's just a house, after-all. Just Haymitch's house. It smells like sour liquor, like a bottle left open in 90 degree weather. And it smells like dust in many places. There are rooms that go untouched for months in his home. It's just a bunch of spaces and doors and smells. It's just a house. Just Haymitch's house.

I turn on my heels and resigns myself to the fact that I cannot yet face Haymitch. It's too soon. I don't know how to talk to him about such matters. I'm not ready. It doesn't matter how many times I have been into his house. This time will be different. And every time after it. I cannot yet face that fact.

"I think it's time we talk, Katniss."

His voice forces me to involuntarily whip around, shock evident on my features, I am sure. I'd assumed that he would be otherwise occupied. He looks me up and down and motions to the sack in my left hand.

"I hope that's dinner. I'm famished," he says with a bit of a smile before motioning me inside, "After you, sweetheart."

I slip in beside him and take off my shoes. Everything looks about the same in the house. It smells the like the same stale sweetness as before. It's enduring, I note, and takes a bigger whiff. Surprisingly, the odor does not send a wave of nausea throughout my body, and that realization appeases me for the time being. It gives me courage to speak.

"I brought some chicken and lemon soup. Greasy Sae taught me how to make it last week. I-I thought you might like to try it with me." I tell him. I can hear the shakiness in my own voice, and I'm sure he can also.

"Sounds good." Haymitch cracks his fingers and takes the bag from me before leaning over and planting a small kiss on my forehead. "Glad to have you back, Katniss."

I nod and hope that he still thinks that after I tell him my news.

We sit at table in a comfortable silence, bringing spoonfuls of soup to our mouths and trying not to look at each other. Well, I try not to look at him. His eyes don't seems to leave me the entire time.

"So, what have you been doing these past two months? I thought you may have died, but then I realized it was just _me_ you were avoiding."

I try not to laugh at his little joke and take another spoonful of soup. I suppose it is now or never. There won't ever be a time where it feels right to tell him.

"I'm pregnant. So I can't really hunt anymore. I feel sick all the time. I sleep most of the time. My life revolves around a baby that I never wanted. Can you tell me how this happened, Haymitch?" I spit his name out, a sudden anger flaring up in me that I have little control over. This is not how I pictured our meeting today, but I suddenly feel like I should strangle the man who is responsible for this mess. I look up at him for the first time and his face is completely emotionless. I feel my walls crumble a bit and grip my spoon harder. "I thought you said I would be safe."

He swallows hard and returns his attention to his soup, as if I never said a word.

I feel sick. I take a small sip of my water and do something that is _so_ out of character for Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay. I start to weep. I cannot stop the tears that are swimming down my face. I wrap my hands around my stomach and let my cries leak into my soup bowl. The sounds of agony echo around his bare dining room, but I don't care. I'm so profoundly sad and wounded and scared that I let my pain resonate in all directions. The cries take over my entire body with shaking, gasping, wheezing sounds that can only come from someone who is absolutely defeated.

I am defeated.

I am only 20 years old. I have no one left. Just Haymitch and some kind of mistake that is taking over my body. He doesn't even seem to care about the consequences of our actions, the lifelong burden and fear that comes with raising a child in Panem. I'll have to raise the child alone. I never even wanted children. I'll never survive this.

Suddenly, there are arms around me. He lifts me up from the table, effortlessly, and carries me into this bed. He sets me on the bed and lays with me, running a calloused hand along my forehead and kissing the top of my head. My sobs do not cease, however, but strengthen and I find it hard to breathe.

"Katniss. Katniss, stop crying. Katniss, you need to stop crying. You are okay, just stop crying. Hey, Katniss, look at me. Look at me, sweetheart. We are okay." He speaks to me softly, all the while using his hands to try and calm me down.

I dare to look up at him, afraid of what I will see. His eyes are so full of concern for me that it makes me want to hit him. How can he not realize that he did this to me. It was his seed that put this baby in me. It was his reassurance that made me trust him. I trusted him! I don't trust anyone, but I decided that Haymitch would not lead me astray. How could he let me get pregnant? It's such an utter betrayal.

"Katniss, listen to me. I know you are upset, but you need to believe that I didn't want this to happen. I didn't do this to you on purpose, okay? The pills I got you are 99% effective. If they gave me bad pills, you can bet I'm going to make them regret it. I should have known better than to trust Capitol medicine. But I did trust it, sweetheart. I didn't mean to do this to you. You just… You need to trust me. We're in this together."

He reaches over and cups my face in an uncharacteristically gentle manner.

"I won't let you do this alone. This is on both of us, and I'll be damned if I let you take all the credit." He jokes and chuckle a bit. It's not as scary when it's a team effort.

"Did you ever want kids?" I ask him, hoping he says the right thing.

"Not before, but I never wanted a pain-in-the-ass girlfriend before either, and that's worked out pretty well for me."

I take that answer as a good thing. Everything is going to be okay.


End file.
